Incognito
by Anita
Summary: Harsh shadows enshroud Luke as he cremates Darth Vader, until he is saved by the last person he had expected.


Incognito 

"_I have no memory of my mother. I never knew her."_

* * *

The air was thick and bitter, far too fitting. Luke watched helplessly as the body of Darth Vader, his father, was enveloped in flames, smoke erupting like a spirit of the past. The silent scene filled him with a vicious grief.

With every last ounce of strength he had had left in him, he had struggled to save his father, to bring him home safely. With deafening explosions ringing in his ears, he had hauled Vader's body all the way to the main docking bay of the Death Star, but even still, it wasn't enough.

The soul was willing, but the flesh was weak.

No, by that point, he was no longer Darth Vader. He had once again become the man he once was; Anakin Skywalker, the very same man who had fathered Luke and Leia. But all of the regret, willpower and good intentions in the universe could not sustain him. It had been far too late.

In those final moments, words had been lost to Luke. Every emotion he had wished to speak was indescribable, the sincerity of his feelings obscured by his confusion and fear.

He had been the only person who had believed in his father, the only one to see the good in him. And yet, the death he had been given was not worthy of him. Who would have foreseen such an end to the life of the great Anakin Skywalker?

Luke blinked back tears of frustration. He was left to fend for himself, to bear the universe's burdens squarely on his shoulders. And he was doubtful he could last any longer.

He immersed himself in the overcast gloom, embracing the sombre tones and the shadowed dusk. Insignificant and broken. Forgotten and alone.

He wished to get away from it all, if only for a moment. If only…

* * *

He smelled it then, the strong scent of wildflowers. They were blooming proudly in the dawn of spring. Thunder and raindrops, a shower from the heavens. But where was he?

A woman stood in wait, expectantly. A small, gentle smile played upon her lips and her eyes glittered with an undeniable innocence. She held him captivated in her resonating light.

She was young, soft curls framing her glowing face. Her words were tender, familiar.

"Luke."

_She was very beautiful. Kind, but sad._

"Mother?"

He took a step closer, but she did not give him an answer. Instead, she took his hand in her own.

"Luke, I want to thank you. Thank you for saving him. Thank you for always believing. Thank you for bringing him back."

Was it some sort of cruel joke, the final nail in the coffin? Was it merely a trial, the universe's idea of his ultimate test?

Either way, it didn't matter. He had been through so much, seen so much. He knew questions simply got in the way. He had learned to accept the unbelievable.

He bit back a bitter laugh. "He's dead, Mother. He's dead because I wasn't strong enough. He died because I let my faith waver, I let my fears and my anger take control."

"You think that all of this is your fault?" Padme studied her son intently.

Luke faltered. This woman, his very own mother, after all of these years. He had never known her, he had never spoken to her, and yet, her eyes held so much love. He felt like a child, emotional and irrational, coveting his mother's blessing, seeking her approval.

"At times, I hated him. Intensely, furiously, deeply. There were moments when I wanted nothing more than to see him in pieces. How can any of this be right?" He looked to her helplessly.

Padme turned away, fingering the small wooden pendant tied around her neck. "You cannot look to the past for answers, Luke. You can only look to the future. You must. For your sister, for Han, for the New Republic."

She returned her gaze to her son, her guilt mirroring the turmoil in his heart. "My faith had also faltered in times before. We cannot blame ourselves for the past. We are all at fault."

He saw the truth in her eyes, the wisdom borne from experience. He knew so little about the world she had lived in, of the life she had led, but he trusted her. In the way only a son could.

Padme smiled broadly then, and Luke was astonished at how quickly it changed the look of her face. She was bright and alive like he had never seen before.

"You should go, Luke. They still need you."

He locked his eyes on hers one last time, soaking in the memory. He raised her hand to his lips, kissing it softly. He silently thanked her for the clarity and understanding. For her strength.

And as he closed his eyes, he could hear the whisper of the relentless wind in his ears.

* * *

The burning continued, its intensity refusing to calm. Slowly yet surely, the sinister black suit that had harboured evil for decades faded from existence. So quickly, the body disappeared, though the memories were still fresh and powerful.

He could hear the cheers of triumph echo through the forests. He realized that with great victories came great losses, the good with the bad. He sensed that his friends were still alive, still exuberant and hopeful. They were waiting for him.

He took one last look at the remains of the man who had shaped his life, in more ways than he would ever realize.

And as the flames licked at the shrouded body of his father, he could see her face in the reflection, watching from afar.

* * *

This is my first try at Star Wars fanfic, so please be kind. :) I would really appreciate any and all reviews. Thank you so much!


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